


beating hearts

by bcvcrly



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alive Eddie Kaspbrak, Fluff, I Love Love, It 2 spoilers, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Reddie, Some angst, i miss writing about these boys, my first fic in over a yr srry not srry, pennywise is such a dipshit smh, rip stan my angel i love u
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcvcrly/pseuds/bcvcrly
Summary: ❝i think we're alone nowthere doesn't seem to be anyone aroundi think we're alone nowthe beating of our hearts is the only sound❞eddie didn't die, but he's different.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii!! i love these dumb boys a lot so ofc i had to write about them again

_He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead._

It was what Richie had to keep repeating to himself. Somehow, _miraculously_ , Eddie was not dead. Somehow he had spent hours sobbing over Eddie’s body, blubbering prayers to a God he didn’t even fucking believe in, and Eddie was _alive_.

For what seemed like the first time in his miserable life, something amazing had happened.

Richie was pacing back and forth in his hotel room. The Losers had brought him out of the cave together, sweaty, bruised, and bleeding. Richie hadn’t even been able to see straight. A thick mist of tears coated his glasses, clouding his vision, and all he could focus on was the sound of Eddie’s shallow breathing… but _fuck_ , he was _breathing_ , so what did it matter if Richie couldn’t see?

The rest of his memory from that night was hazy. Mike calling an ambulance. Beverly’s arms tight around Richie as he shook with tears. The sound of sirens, a blur of red lights, Eddie’s head lolling helplessly to the side as he was loaded onto a stretcher. They hadn’t let Richie go with Eddie right away. Something about him being hysterical.

Richie could feel his heart shattering as he remembered it all.

His hands shook as he looked down at them now. The others had insisted that he go back to the hotel for a bit until Bill could finish clearing things up at the hospital and bring Richie to see Eddie.

“I can drive _just fucking fine_ ,” he’d snapped at Bill, but he was swaying and crying like a child and it was so, so obvious that he couldn’t.

“I’ll get you at six,” Bill had promised, and wiped away tears of his own and hugged Richie hard.

It was six now, and as soon as Richie heard the sound of footsteps outside the hall, he jumped to his feet and swung the door open.

“Hey,” Bill said. “Apparently he just woke up. Let’s go.”

* * *

Ben sat in a chair next to Eddie’s bed. Richie blinked rapidly. The room was an extremely bright white. Eddie’s bed was in the center of the room, and beside him was a table of complicated-- and really fucking sharp-- tools that Richie was doing his best to ignore.

Ben looked up at Bill and Richie and gave them a reassuring smile. “He’s awake,” he whispered. “I think. He’s been babbling a bit.”

Eddie was laying down, his eyes fluttering open and closed. Richie made his way to the bed. “Hey, Eds,” he said, his voice breaking horribly.

Eddie’s eyes opened completely and as his gaze met Richie’s, Richie felt that familiar, terrible lurch in his stomach, stronger now than ever before. Had his eyes always been this dark? And God, had his hands always looked that good? Had Richie ever been able to breathe properly around Eddie?

“Richie,” he croaked, then looked down at himself. “What-- what the--”

“You made it,” Richie whispered, scared that if he spoke his voice would crack again. “It’s gone.”

“What?” Eddie repeated, looking around the room. “What happened?”

Ben and Bill walked to Eddie’s other side. “We defeated It.” Bill said. “He turned into… this…. this spider thing--”

Eddie shuddered and looked away, an expression of nausea coming over his face. Bill pressed on anyway.

“But that spider… that was It’s true form. Not the c-clown.” His voice dropped on the last word.

“We had to pull out It’s heart,” Ben continued in a low voice. “But we did it. And we all saw him go. It’s gone.”

“It’s gone,” Eddie repeated, closing his eyes again and exhaling slowly.

Richie nodded, realizing too late that Eddie couldn’t see him right now. “You did it, Eds,” he said. “Fought that bastard up until the end.”

“Don’t call me Eds,” Eddie murmured sleepily. His eyelashes fluttered again and his breathing slowed as he fell asleep.

“Give him some rest,” Bill mouthed. Ben and a very reluctant Richie stepped out with him into the hall.

“It’s best to let him sleep right now, Rich,” Ben said as Richie’s hand went immediately back to the doorknob. “Let him sleep off all the drugs he’s on. He was saying some weird stuff before you guys came in.”

“Like what?” Richie asked, craning his neck over Ben’s shoulders in a desperate attempt to see inside the tiny window on the door.

Ben colored slightly. “Just, uh, stuff,” he said cryptically, his eyes darting to the door and back again. He ran a hand through his hair. “Gibberish probably, I think.” He turned to Bill. “Have you talked to his workplace? And Myra?”

“A bit, yeah,” Bill said, and as he and Ben continued to talk, Richie went back to the room, drew the visitor chair close to Eddie’s bed, and sat beside him.

He couldn’t help but notice every little feature on Eddie’s face as he slept. Dark lashes fanned out. His cheekbones. His _lips_ …

Richie inhaled sharply and looked away. He couldn’t afford to think this way. It had taken years to forget Eddie Kaspbrak. There had been high school, where Richie had to watch as Eddie dated girls and grew into his looks and began to ignore Richie, apparently at his mother’s request. And then Richie had moved away, and Eddie had moved away, and suddenly there was no more Eddie Kaspbrak. There was just a strange, Eddie-shaped hole in Richie’s heart.

In spite of himself, he looked back at Eddie. Suddenly, Richie was seeing bits of Eddie in every person he had ever been with. Those eyebrows, those eyes, even the goddamn shape of his face. Every single part of him had somehow found their way into Richie’s life.

But no piece could fit like Eddie did.

He’d never wanted to call it what it was. It was brotherly affection. It was friendship. Right? Isn’t that what they call it when you love someone so much you can barely breathe, and every moment with them feels like you’re falling? When you know that you would die for that person without a doubt? Richie snorted. He didn’t think he’d ever actually believed those lies he told himself. And now, it felt like those decades apart, rather than causing Richie’s feelings to fade away, had instead brightened and strengthened them, and now they were so strong and vibrant that he couldn’t ignore them anymore. He couldn’t attribute this feeling in his chest to just being best friends.

He couldn’t ignore the fact that he loved Eddie Kaspbrak, more than he had ever wanted to admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave kudos or comments if u like this ! they mean the world & stars to me


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plot thiccens B-)

Richie was pretty sure that the white hospital room was burned into his brain for the rest of his life. He had spent hours there every day for nearly two months now, telling Eddie shitty jokes, helping him eat, and definitely, _certainly_ not imagining himself brushing Eddie’s hair out of his eyes or planting kisses across his forehead and lips.

Because that would be so stupid.

And would be so inappropriate.

And would probably result in him getting kicked out of the Derry Hospital for good.

Richie looked out the window at the bleary gray sky. The people here weren’t exactly accepting.

“What are you looking at?” Eddie mumbled. He looked much better than he had months ago. His cheeks were flushed with a healthy glow, and he was now capable of sitting up, walking around, and kicking Richie when he didn't like his jokes. Deep in the back of his mind, Richie knew Eddie would be let out of the hospital any day now, and he didn’t know what he would do when that happened.

This was their new normal. Richie didn’t want to imagine what would come after this. Eddie would go back home. Richie would go back to L.A. _Same old shit_.

“Nothing,” Richie said, turning away from the window and instead looking down at Eddie. His hair had grown out a bit, reminding Richie of a younger, boyish version of Eddie, with an oversized fanny pack and undersized shorts…

Richie tousled Eddie’s hair. “Going for the mop look?” He said, definitely _not_ thinking about how soft Eddie’s hair was.

“No,” Eddie snorted, crossing his arms. “You’ve got me beat on that front.”

That was probably true. Richie’s hair had grown out as well-- a result of nearly all his time being spent with Eddie instead of focusing on himself. Not that he would let Eddie have the last word. So they continued to bicker back and forth lightheartedly, and it was like they’d transported themselves back twenty-five years.

“Doctor says I’m free to go,” Eddie said suddenly, his voice soft, eyes focused on the ground.

“Oh,” Richie said stupidly after a long pause. For once, he was at a loss for words. “Oh… that’s really--”

“And did Bill and Mike tell you what they told Myra?” Myra. _Eddie’s fucking wife_.

Richie felt something hot and sharp course through his body momentarily. “That I miss her sweet ass and last night was really special?” He tried to quip, but it sounded stupid even to his own ears.

Eddie almost, almost seemed to smile for a second. But then he didn’t. “No, Rich," he said, then paused. "They told her I died.”

“What the fuck?” Richie exclaimed. “That you’re dead? Whose idea was that?”

“Mike’s… he said at first they told her that you were missing, and she-- she said she was going to get the police involved and they would just find him because I couldn’t have gotten too far on my own--”

Once again, Richie felt anger course through him.

“--and Mike couldn’t explain all of the things with It, obviously, because then she’d think I’m suffering from some kind of-- some kind of psychotic break, and she’d obviously know about the _enormous fucking hole_ in my chest, and she’d just come to Derry herself and take me home…” Eddie trailed off and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“So where are you going to go?” Richie asked, and Eddie gave him an overwhelmed look and shrugged.

For a beat, they looked at each other.

“You can stay with me, if you want. Just to, you know, get back on your feet.”

He didn’t know what had made him say it, except that Eddie looked so lost right now and yet still so damn kissable, and he felt like he owed Eddie everything he ever had to offer. Eddie had saved his life.

Eddie grinned. “Seriously?”

Richie rolled his eyes. “I’ve already lost you twice, Eddie Spaghetti,” he said. “I’m not about to let you get away that easily a third time.”

“Stop fucking calling me that,” Eddie murmured, but he was still smiling. And as Richie caught sight of his reflection in the window, he realized he was smiling too.

* * *

“A six hour flight with you,” Eddie grumbled. “I’m going to go insane. Didn't know I hated myself _this_ much.”

They were headed to gate at the airport. Richie tightened his grip on his black carry-on as they walked, then noticed Eddie’s carry-on and large backpack for the first time.

“Jesus Christ, what’s in those bags? I thought you left everything at home?”

“Well, yeah, but… I had to buy some airport supplies.”

“‘Airport supplies’?”

Eddie opened the bag. It was stocked heavily with travel-sized hand sanitizer, travel Clorox wipes, gloves, bandages--

“Holy _shit_ , dude. Are you planning on cleaning the whole airport? And what the hell are all these bandages for?”

Eddie shrugged, and as he looked away from Richie to zip his backpack shut, Richie noticed that his shoulders and face looked very tense.

“Hey,” he said, as the two sat down. “What’s up? You seem way more…” he gestured ambiguously, not knowing how to finish.

Eddie squirted hand sanitizer into his palms, evidently out of nervousness, then lightly touched an area on his chest over his sweater.

A particular area.

The area where a certain murderous clown had attacked him only a few months ago.

“It’s weird,” Eddie said softly. “Being out in public like this. I mean, I almost--” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “I almost fucking _died_ , Richie. For like twenty minutes, I _did_ think I was dying. So _excuse me_ if I want to be twice as careful now.”

His fingers clenched the hand sanitizer bottle. “I don’t have a house. I don’t have Myra. Or my work. Or fucking anything. I don’t know what to do with myself. I tried to do something brave, for once. And then I nearly died, and you all had to save me. Again.” He closed his eyes hard as if it would make the airport disappear, and suddenly Richie saw little Eddie in his place, a twelve-year old who was scared of the common cold and being left in the dark for too long.

So Richie didn’t think. He hugged Eddie as hard as he could, as if he could squeeze all the hurt and suffering out of him. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met, Eds,” he said, and for once Eddie didn’t get mad about the nickname.

Calling Eddie “Eds” was the closest that Richie could get to saying “I love you” without falling apart.

They hadn’t hugged like this in so long… in maybe ever. They fit together perfectly for that moment-- Eddie’s chin in the space between Richie’s shoulder and neck, arms wrapped around each other.

Then Eddie swallowed, pulled back, and nodded to the front of the gate. “Thanks,” he said thickly. “I think we’re boarding now.”

They pulled their luggage behind them as they boarded and it wasn’t until they’d reached their seats that Eddie spoke again.

“And thanks, Rich,” he said, a small smile playing on his face as he fastened his seatbelt. “You’re the bravest person I know too.”

* * *

Richie was scrolling through his Spotify, selecting a playlist to listen to, when he heard Eddie inhale sharply beside him.

Richie looked up. A middle-aged, blonde flight attendant was demonstrating how to properly use an oxygen mask. Richie’s eyes darted uncomfortably between her and Eddie’s rapt, attentive expression. 

“Jesus, dude,” he said loudly. “We get it. You’re horny.” He couldn’t stop himself. Yes, Eddie was straight.  _ Yes, he was fucking straight.  _ Richie didn’t need such a painful reminder.

For some reason, Richie started thinking about senior prom. How he’d told the Losers that  _ yes,  _ there was someone he wanted to ask but prom was stupid, right? So he didn’t feel like asking someone who didn’t particularly like him back.

Eddie had asked who it was. Over and over and over. And Richie remembered all the stupid things he’d said to cover up who it was. Eddie’s mom. Ben’s mom. Every fucking girl in their whole class. Anyone,  _ anyone _ but Eddie.

“Richie,” Eddie said, and from his tone Richie could tell that he’d been repeating the name a few times now. “What the fuck was that?” His face was beet red.

Richie looked from the flight attendant back to Eddie. Had he said something? Shown something on his face? “What?”

“I don’t-- I’m not--  _ horny! _ ” Eddie said furiously. “I was thinking about what we would have to do if the plane crashed!”

_ I’m an asshole,  _ Richie thought, and suddenly the plane was feeling extremely hot and he couldn’t quite meet Eddie’s eyes.

“If… if the plane crashed?” He repeated. He was suddenly very focused on the sick bag in front of his seat. “The plane isn’t gonna--”

“How do you know?” Eddie said heatedly. “It could and then you wouldn’t know what to do, and if I hadn’t listened,  _ I  _ wouldn’t have a single fucking clue, so--”

The plane started to roll forward and Eddie sucked in a little breath as it took to the air.

Richie reached over and squeezed his hand without thinking. “You’re not gonna die, Eddie,” he said, and would have said more but then he realized Eddie was leaning into him. 

Leaning in. As if he wanted…

Did he want to…

Richie tilted his head ever so slightly towards him…

And Eddie leaned past Richie and looked out the window. “Goodbye, Derry,” he muttered. “See you fucking  _ never,  _ hopefully.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i JUST WANNA SAY low key airports r nasty and i also get nervous being in them  
> anyways u know the drill,, leave comments & kudos if u enjoy this so far!


	3. Chapter 3

For the fiftieth time, Richie checked his watch.

Had it seriously only been fifteen minutes? It felt like hours had passed since they’d boarded the plane.

Eddie was asleep-- mouth open, head lolling ridiculously to the side, eyelids fluttering. If Richie hadn’t felt so goddamn _awful_ about the flight attendant incident, he might’ve taken a picture. Or drawn a dick on his face. Richie's mouth twitched at the mental image.

But he wasn’t going to do that, he told himself, forcing his hands to fold innocently in his lap. Eddie was obviously exhausted, probably both physically and mentally after being stuck in a hospital for so long and then suddenly re-exposed to everyday life.

So instead, Richie indulged himself by letting his eyes follow the rise and fall of Eddie’s chest as he breathed, mentally tracing over the curve of his lips and nose and chin.

Just for a moment.

Just for a second.

Eddie was _alive._

The flight attendant was pushing a beverage cart through the aisle. Richie considered waking Eddie for a moment, but he was _sleeping_ , and what kind of asshole wakes someone who looks like they haven’t slept in months?

So Richie quietly accepted a coffee for himself and a green tea for Eddie. He didn’t even know if Eddie still drank green tea, but some vague memory of him drinking it when they were twelve had resurfaced when Richie had seen the teabags.

He was slowly realizing that he didn’t know much of Eddie at all. Somewhere, Richie knew that the same Eddie Kaspbrak he had always known was buried in there, but the two men were now decades apart. They had lived more of their lives apart than together, Richie realized, and the thought shook him.

He started on the coffee. A distraction. He needed a distraction from feeling so lost, helpless, and downright fucking lovesick.

Eddie was _married_. To a _woman_. Granted, a woman that was the carbon copy of his mother, but Richie supposed he couldn’t judge. After all, his own love life wasn’t exactly admirable… he’d been pining after his childhood best friend for his entire life.

Eddie muttered something and furrowed his brow. Richie froze. What was he saying?

“Fuck you,” Eddie mumbled, his jaw working. He said something else too, too quiet for Richie to make out.

Then Richie noticed Eddie’s cheek was glimmering. At first, it was hard to see why-- would it kill this plane to get better lights? Jesus Christ-- but then Eddie gave a shuddering breath and sniffled. And grabbed a fistful of his shirt in his hands, right over his stomach. Right where--

“Eds,” Richie said, shaking him. “Eddie.”

Eddie inhaled sharply and his eyes flew open. “Shit, what-- was I--”

“It was a bad dream,” Richie said. “We’re still here.” He gestured to the window, where the sky was beginning to tinge orange and pink. “I… uh… got you some tea.”

Eddie grabbed it with nothing less than desperation and took a massive gulp. He used the sleeves of his sweater to wipe his eyes. “Thanks,” he said. “Green tea.” He was almost smiling.

“I’m sorry,” Richie told him, but he didn’t know how to elaborate. He _was_ sorry, but he couldn’t explain it. _Sorry for what? Sorry I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sorry I didn’t realize It was behind you sooner. Sorry I didn’t do more._

_Sorry I've never told you the truth._

“It doesn’t happen every night,” Eddie said in a low, careful voice. “Just sometimes. It’s like it’s happening all over again.”

“Shit,” Richie breathed out slowly. “I can’t even imagine… I’m sorry. Again.” Could he stop saying that?

“It’s like after It came back the second time… I can’t forget. We all forgot what happened last time, but this time…” he set his empty cup on the tray table and sighed. “This time, It stays.”

* * *

They hadn’t really talked much after that, and then Eddie had fallen asleep again, insisting that he didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

It was at that moment that Richie made a decision.

He wouldn’t let Eddie stay like this-- terrified, crying, and constantly worrying. He was going to help.

Richie had never been one for problem-solving. He was more the ignore-the-issue-entirely-and-just-avoid-the-source-of-the-problem-for-the-rest-of-your-life kind of person. It was the reason he chose comedy. _Make people laugh. Ignore the constant bullshit going on in your own life_. It was the reason he hadn’t stayed in contact with any of the Losers, even Eddie. He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

 _Especially_ Eddie.

But he wasn’t going to let Eddie hide from everything the way he always had. He wasn’t going to let It win again and again, even after it was gone and dead.

Richie opened the Notes app and began to type.

* * *

“ _Jesus_ , you sleep like a rock.”

Richie blinked blearily. Where _was_ he--

He shot upright, realizing suddenly that he was being shaken hard and that he had definitely been _snoring into Eddie’s neck_ for the past-- he checked his watch-- thirty minutes.

_Hoooooly shit._

“She’s serving dinner,” Eddie yawned, nodding his head towards the flight attendant heading down the aisle.

Richie scrubbed his face, praying that the burn he felt in his cheeks was not visible. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“Yeah, anytime,” Eddie responded, laying out his tray table. “I’ve been told I’m a great pillow. I mean, probably a bit bony, but still great.”

“Fuck off,” Richie retorted, but inside he was reeling. Eddie was shockingly nonchalant about all of this. About Richie’s lips being against his throat for half a fucking hour.

In fact, Richie realized, casting Eddie a sidelong glance, he was weirdly chipper, smiling at the flight attendant and making a joke about chicken as she handed him two tinfoil-wrapped dinner trays.

Whatever. Richie was glad Eddie was happy, and he guessed it wouldn’t be that weird if, say, Bev had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Ultimately, Richie thought as he dug into his chicken and vegetables, it came down to attraction.

But he wasn’t going to think about that. Eddie needed a friend right now, not some forty-year-old trying to get in his pants.

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?” Richie asked. It was random, but he needed to know. For research.

Eddie looked surprised. “You mean like a bucket list?” He tapped his plastic fork on his tray, evidently deep in thought. “Maybe… visit the new botanical garden that was just added by my workplace. Or there’s a really good gelato kiosk that I always pass up, because _hello_ , multiple health code violations from having dairy products out in the sun like that--”

“Okay. Stop. Stop. I can’t listen to this. Fuck, Eds, what do you do _for fun_?”

Eddie looked confused. "I just said--"

"No offense, but I do not buy that for a single milli-fucking-second. I have a lot to catch you up on as soon as we land in L.A."


End file.
